


your skin against mine

by scarletsky4748



Series: 7 Day of Writing Challenge [7]
Category: Golden Child (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, contain them being shirtless but anyway this is sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29901552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletsky4748/pseuds/scarletsky4748
Summary: Both shirtless, one quarterly covered by bandage.
Relationships: Hong Joochan/Kim Jibeom
Series: 7 Day of Writing Challenge [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188692
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	your skin against mine

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7  
> Prompt 2 - Them exploring each others' bodies, but not in a sexual way. Finding their different birthmarks, looking over each others' scars and sharing the stories behind them, running their hands over one another and just appreciating the feeling of the other person next to them.

It’s another day again, another new summon, another fresh smell of someone’s blood on his palm, _again_. Joochan scorns. Being an outcast of the underworld sure is troublesome. He rubs the red liquid under the running water roughly.

One day, he swears to God, he’ll be their death-end. All of those bastards. When the time comes, it’s going to be slow and painful, and they’ll _scream_ , so loud it deaf their ear.

While he’s deep in his terrain of thought, a groan is loud, soundly from the next room. He hastily leaves the bathroom with his still wet hands.

His partner, Jibeom, is on the bed, growling as he forces his wounded body to move.

“You need to sleep more. It’s not healed yet.” Joochan helps him up. The worry is tight, clapped between his chapped lips.

“I’ve been worse.” The other states.

Indeed. They’ve been regularly giving a brief visit to the great grim reaper, at least once a month. Life and death is their daily game.

Joochan sits on his side as he gives some pressure on where the dagger penetrated the skin. “I’ll change this.” He offers, examining the bandage. To his relief, the bleeding has stopped.

Jibeom shakes his head, holding his hand suddenly. “Stay here.” And mutters ever so quietly.

It’s maybe one of that day when they’re being sentimental. Joochan hugs him from behind, hand wrapped loosely around the arms. “I’m here.” He softly whispers, pressing a gentle kiss down on the small of his back. Rough and tanned, his lips brush the skin. How many scars a man could bear? His mind wanders. His orbs trail down the many unbalanced contours on the open skin. Hot bullets, sharp objects, fists, the brutal roads. Those are just a few of the possible options of the wounds' origin.

“Were you hurt?” A calloused hand reaches his. Then, a tender kiss is placed on its back.

Joochan heaves, a sigh he unknowingly held. His head sneaks on the neck crock, buried deep there. Inhaling, breathing. There’s an invisible hand gripping his lung so firmly.

“Joochan?” Jibeom calls again. His tone brings the same concern.

He can’t find his voice. Joochan only buries his head there, refusing to see his partner.

Then, Jibeom feels something warm pooling on his skin. The silence surrounds them. He intertwines their fingers together and brings it close to his heart.

The clock hands move, from second to minute, then hour. The scene remains stagnant.

“This one, was it when you covered for me?”

Joochan resurfaces, leaning his face to the board back as his free hand caresses a gash on the shoulder. Jibeom glances from his eyes corner. A small smile flourishes.

“You’re a tough one with a bleeding limb still charged forward that time.” Jibeom carefully turns his position.

Their eyes then meet. Both shirtless, one quarterly covered by bandage. He leads Joochan to rest on his embrace.

“You’re not healed yet,” Joochan points as soon. Although so, he follows, cautiously leaning down. “Don’t be reckless.” He alerts with a deep frown.

Two arms blanket him. “I just want to make sure that I make it alive.” Joochan has his mouth sealed.

They stay there, in quietness. Hands roam above the skin, thickened and rough from all the surviving game of missions to kill.

Joochan traces the toned muscles on Jibeom’s chest, brushing the glaring scars in soft steady movement. Jibeom, on the other side, hugs Joochan close, running his fingers in between the brown strands. Their breathing sync in a slow elegant waltz.

Tomorrow, it will be another day. There will be another summon. There will be another bloodshed. They might as well be the new resident in the Death house.

But that’s for tomorrow. As for now, they have each other alive and breathing in their arms. That’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> The last prompt! Gosh, this one is the hardest to write. I don't know if I can convey the emotion but at least I try :") thank you for reading! Especially for those who've been reading this since day one to day seven xD Until later guys! Hope you have a good day ahead!


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